


Better Days Shining Through

by GotTheSilver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Autumn, Domestic, Dorks in Love, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:02:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8272048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: “S’early,” Cas mumbles, his face shoved in the pillow, his grown out hair sticking up in all directions as he reaches out, hand blindly patting Dean’s chest.  “Sleep.”

  Dean snorts, glancing at the clock.  “Dylan’s gonna be up soon.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I’m on breakfast duty again, then?”

  “Love you,” Cas mumbles, wriggling his way even further under the blankets.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [captainshakespear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainshakespear/gifts).



> for Michelle's prompt of "Dean and Cas creating a pile of leaves for their kid(s) to jump in", and taking parts of the ideas for Dean and Cas' future that we've discussed.
> 
> this is canon-verse, but, like, a future where they get to be happy and content.
> 
> [tumblr post](http://motleywolf.tumblr.com/post/151730562542/fic-better-days-shining-through-deancas-g)!

One morning when Dean wakes up, he can smell it in the air, seeping through the window in their bedroom that’s still a little wonky from where Dylan ran at it full tilt a week after they brought him home. He’d been so scared that Dean and Cas would send him back to the foster home that he’d broken down in tears, and fixing the window beyond a quick repair had kind of got lost in the shuffle. Now, with the temperatures falling, Dean puts it on his mental ‘to-do’ list that he knows is gonna get longer as the years go by.

“S’early,” Cas mumbles, his face shoved in the pillow, his grown out hair sticking up in all directions as he reaches out, hand blindly patting Dean’s chest. “Sleep.”

Dean snorts, glancing at the clock. “Dylan’s gonna be up soon.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m on breakfast duty again, then?”

“Love you,” Cas mumbles, wriggling his way even further under the blankets.

Leaning over, Dean kisses the top of Cas’ head, a warmth spreading through his chest at the contented noise Cas makes. Getting out of bed, Dean grabs his robe, pulling it on over his pj pants and his old, faded, Sabbath shirt; as he pads down the hallway, he can hear Dylan in his room, singing along with the radio to a song Dean doesn’t recognise. “Hey,” he says, knocking on the door before opening it. “You want pancakes?”

Dylan’s clutching the stuffed dog Sam bought for him and he nods enthusiastically at Dean’s suggestion. “Up please,” he says as Dean switches the radio off before lowering the safety rail on the edge of the bed. Lifting Dylan up and onto his hip, Dean walks over to the window and raises the blinds to be greeted by leaves scattered all over the backyard.

“Huh,” he says, trying to remember if they picked up rakes in preparation for the first fall in their own house. “That’s a lot of leaves.”

“S’pretty,” Dylan says, his head lolling against Dean’s shoulder.

Dean chuckles, hitching Dylan up further as they turn away from the window. “Yeah, they’re pretty.” Heading down the stairs, Dean kisses Dylan’s cheek. “Maybe Papa will want to play in them with you later.”

“And Daddy?”

“Daddy’s gotta make pancakes first, and coffee to wake Papa up.” Dylan nods seriously as they walk into the kitchen. “Okay,” Dean says. “Do you want to go on the booster, or on the couch?”

“Booster.”

“You got it.” Dean straps Dylan in and pushes the chair closer to the table. Grabbing some paper and crayons from the pot by the toaster oven, Dean puts them on the table before filling a sippy cup with water for Dylan.

Getting the coffee brewing, Dean switches the radio on and presses the preset button for the local classic rock station, smiling to himself when the opening notes of Tangerine start playing. The sun streams through the window over the sink as Dean gathers up the ingredients for pancakes, sneaking the pack of chocolate chips out of the cupboard once Dylan’s engrossed in a drawing.

“I’m gonna take this coffee up to papa, okay, Dyl?”

“Uh huh.”

When Dean makes it upstairs, Cas’ foot is sticking out of the blankets, and Dean can’t resist running a finger along the skin, laughing when Cas whines and yanks his foot up. “C’mon Princess,” Dean says, walking to the head of the bed and putting the mug of coffee down on the bedside table. “Dylan’s up and we’re making pancakes.”

“Chocolate chip?” Cas asks, rolling onto his back.

“Come downstairs and find out.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Cas says, pushing the blankets off and standing up, grabbing the mug and taking a quick gulp. “But I love you.”

“Yet you kiss the coffee mug before me,” Dean says, raising his eyebrows. “I see how it is.”

Cas smirks around the rim of the mug before lowering it to his side and leaning in, pressing his mouth against Dean’s lips softly. “Good morning, Dean,” he says, lips dragging across Dean’s skin as he speaks.

“Mornin’, Cas.”

*

“Daddy said we could play in the leaves,” Dylan says as he tries to get his t-shirt on, whining whenever Cas goes to help him get his arms through the sleeves.

Dean sticks his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush in his hand, and shoots a look at Dylan. “That’s not exactly what I said, is it, Dyl?”

“It is!” Dylan says, his hands on his hips, a frown crossing his face as he stares at Dean.

“I said if Papa agrees we can go and play in the leaves,” Dean says, sticking the toothbrush back in his mouth, wiping at the foam running down his chin.

“Papa?” Dylan asks, eyes widening in a practiced move that Dean’s seen more times than he can count during the eight months Dylan’s been living with them.

“Get dressed without any more problems and we’ll see,” Cas says, holding out Dylan’s pants.

“Don’t want pants.”

“You gotta have pants, buddy,” Dean calls before leaning over the sink and spitting out the toothpaste. Rinsing his mouth out, Dean wipes his face with a towel and heads back into the bedroom. “Definitely no playing with leaves if you’re not wearing pants.”

“Papa’s not wearing pants,” Dylan says.

“That’s because Papa is helping you get dressed,” Dean says, tugging a plain grey t-shirt on before opening the closet to grab a red and black plaid shirt. “Once you’ve got your pants on, Papa’s gonna get his pants on.”

“Papa put his pants on first.”

“No, Dylan,” Cas says. “We’re doing it this way.”

“Why?”

“Because I still have to brush my teeth and wash my face,” Cas says, standing up, wincing a little at the soreness in his knees. “Daddy’s going to finish getting you dressed so that I can get ready and then we can all go outside together, okay?”

“And play with leaves?”

“And play with leaves.”

Dean waits until Dylan nods, bottom lip still sticking out stubbornly, and then Dean takes Cas’ place, wrestling Dylan into his pants as Cas quickly gets washed up. By the time Cas comes out of the bathroom, shirtless with a pair of well worn jeans on, Dylan’s got his own pants on and is sitting on the floor crashing two toy cars together as Dean sits on the bed and flips through emails on his iPad.

“I’ll be late home on Tuesday,” Dean says, watching Cas finish getting dressed, a soft black hoodie being pulled over a blue t-shirt. “Got some kids coming in for a late appointment.”

“New?”

“Eileen found them.” Dean shuts down the iPad and puts it on the bedside table. “They’re not doing too good.” Looking up at Cas, Dean runs a hand over the blankets. “I don’t know if I can help them, but—”

“You’ll try,” Cas says, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking Dean’s hand, pressing a kiss to Dean’s temple. “You always do.”

*

“That’s a lotta leaves,” Dylan says, the antennae on his bee beanie flopping over his face as he stares at the yard.

“Sure is, buddy,” Dean says, brushing the antennae away from Dylan’s face. “We’re gonna rake them up and make some piles, okay?”

“Then what?”

Cas crouches down so he’s level with Dylan, and takes his hand. “Then we get to jump in them.”

“Really?” Dylan looks up at Dean, the light hitting the scar on his forehead that’s a constant reminder of what they rescued him from. “Daddy?”

Dean shakes off the memories and smiles down at Dylan. “Really. You wanna go get your rake from the set Uncle Sam got you?”

Dylan runs off before Dean can even finish speaking, and he laughs, taking Cas’ hand and pulling him back to a standing position. He doesn’t let go when Cas is up, holds on tightly as they walk over to the shed to get the adult sized rakes. Dylan’s got his plastic rake out, and is attacking the leaves in a way that’s never going to get them in a pile, but the shrieks of glee coming from him are all that matter.

Between the two of them, Dean and Cas quickly manage to rake up most of the leaves, and they start piling them up, Dylan hanging off Cas’ leg and asking if it’s ready yet. Picking him up when they’re done, Cas rests Dylan on his hip and winks at Dean. “You wanna go in?” Cas asks Dylan, resting their heads together.

“Daddy first.”

“Oh really?” Cas turns and looks at Dean. “Daddy first, apparently.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Of course.” Rolling up his sleeves, Dean wiggles his eyebrows at Dylan. “Here goes nothing,” he says before jumping into the pile backwards. He’s barely landed before Cas throws Dylan at him, the kid screeching as he goes sailing through the air, landing right in Dean’s arms.

“You got me!” Dylan yells in Dean’s face, his hands already picking at the leaves.

“Always, kiddo.” The words are just out of his mouth as Cas throws himself down next to Dean and Dylan, grabbing a handful of leaves and throwing them at Dean’s face. “Hey,” Dean splutters. “Illegal play on the field.”

“We’re not on a field,” Cas says, tilting his head as if he’s confused, but Dean knows damn well by now exactly when Cas is faking that look. Rummaging around by his side, Dean grabs as many leaves as he can and tosses them in Cas’ face; Cas tries to dodge them, but falls further into the pile with a yelp.

“Papa’s gone!” Dylan exclaims from his seat on Dean’s stomach, looking at where Cas was before.

“Not gone,” Cas’ voice comes as he scrambles to a kneeling position. “Just—communing with nature.”

Dean reaches over and plucks a leaf from Cas’ hair. “You’re cute,” he says with a smile, Dylan smacking him in the face as he clambers off Dean to sit in the leaves. “He’s less cute,” Dean mutters, rubbing a hand against his cheek.

“That’s a lie,” Cas says, laying down next to Dean, resting his head against Dean’s chest. “He’s very cute.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, curling his arm around Cas and tugging him closer. “I guess he is.”

Dylan’s sitting above them, throwing leaves in the air, and every now and then some fall on Dean’s face; the air is crisp, temperature starting to drop as the sun casts colours across the sky, but Cas is warm next to him, and Dylan’s starting to droop, yawns crossing his little face as Dean looks at him.

“Come here, kiddo,” Dean says, dislodging Cas before reaching up, hiding a smile when Dylan almost falls into his arms. Settling him against his chest, Dean presses a kiss on Dylan’s forehead, rubbing a hand along his back until Dylan’s eyes start to close.

Cas rolls onto his stomach and props himself up on his elbows. “You’re stuck there for naptime now,” he teases, dropping light kisses along Dean’s jaw.

“That’s okay,” Dean says, and it would almost be surprising how much he means it, but he fell hard and fast for this kid as soon as they found out he needed a home, and if he has to stay in a pile of leaves during naptime, so be it.

Eventually he’ll risk waking Dylan up and take him inside, but for now, Dean’s happy to lay here with Cas and their kid, soaking in the fall weather in the yard of his own damn house, and enjoy all the trappings of a life he was sure he’d never get to have. Dean’s never been so happy to be wrong.


End file.
